Between the ages of 10-13, whenever my mother would leave the house I’d dash upstairs and squirt a bunch of ketchup onto a coffee saucer. Then I’d bring it back down to the finished basement which was basically the “Dave Zone”. I was strictly forbidden to have “blood matches” with my rubber WWF wrestling figures, so this practice always had to be performed on the down-low.

I’d pit two dolls against eachother within my plastic WWF ring, and invariably one of the wrestlers would introduce a foreign object (usually Andre The Giant) and the ketchup would start flying. Pomegranate seeds also worked well for this purpose, but were only in season once a year and similarly banned from the basement.

Upon hearing my mother’s car return to the driveway I’d rush back upstairs, rinse the evidence off the toys and my forearms, and go back to my Commodore 64 which was usually downloading a primitive wrestling game on my 500 baud Pocket Modem. Dave, what’s changed you ask?

Well, I don’t follow wrestling anymore (as far as you know) but I did discover a disturbing list that I want to share with you. It seems that Ray Traylor, a.k.a. The Big Boss Man, died earlier this week. And of course I knew Andre and Owen Heart had met with untimely deaths. But what I did not know, is that people in this pugilistic profession have been dropping like flies. And not just from steroids and their repercussions – from all kinds of nasty accidents.

For example, did anyone else know that Rick Rude, Davey Boy Smith and The Junkyard Dog are all currently pushing up turnbuckles? I didn’t. Memories of my childhood just dropped a flying elbow on me. Have a look for yourself here.

“One of the reasons Brando was a great star was that he never followed the form book, but lived his life spontaneously, personally and sincerely.” – Roger Ebert

When Marlon Brando died July 1st 2004 at 80 years of age, I had not yet crossed over into bloggerdom. His ashes were scattered today – half in Death Valley California and the other half on the Tahitian island he bought in 1962 (insert blizzard joke here). So I wanted to take this opportunity to mark the occasion.

Here’s what must be amazing about being an enormous (no pun intended – Marlon was still fairly fit in the 60s) celebrity. You can do the most outrageous, impulsive things. Marlon filmed Mutiny on the Bounty on the island, called Tetiaroa, in 1962. After principal photography wrapped, he married one of his co-stars (Tarita Teriipaia) – and then bought the island.

“Me filmy. Me likey. Me stayey. I’ll take the tanned broad, too.”

I’ll miss Marlon. He is first on a very short list of actors who defined the artform. Up until his death, he was giving in-house (and I mean his house – which he never left, ever) acting lessons to established A-listers like Sean Penn and Nick Nolte. The list of restaurants that would permit Marlon to partake of their all-you-can-eat-buffet is probably… also… very… short. Sigh.

That’s what you refer to as a “low-hanging fruit” joke. But Brando was into humor at its most very basic – flatulence – so he’d probably let me get away with it. Have a safe trip on that last Streetcar, Stanley. You’re the best that ever was.

The man is 82, afterall, but I’m not ready to see him shuffle off this mortal coil just yet. Nor am I lobbying for a Meet Wally Sparks or Ladybugs sequel. But Rodney Dangerfield has been one of my very favorite comedians since I first saw Easy Money on network TV way back in 1983. It’s one of the funniest comedies ever conceived and I’m frequently shocked at how few people have seen it.

At first it looked like his heart surgery had been a roaring success. And I also heard Adam Sandler and a bunch of other actors and comedians had been to the hospital to visit him – but apparently he’s not actually doing so hot. So pull together folks, and send Rodney some good vibes today.

Monty : [about his Mother-In-Law] She says I drink too much, I smoke too much, I gamble. I mean she’s right, but what can I do? I got no… what’s the word…

Nicky : Class.